


Purple

by Anonymous



Category: NCT
Genre: F/M, M/M, Medieval AU, Mentions of homophobia, Minor Character Death, Slow Burn, stream purple we’re at 918K
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18502399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Mark loves the familarity that comes with his small village, the way that everyone knows everyone.What he doesn’t love however, is the prince who doesn’t care about their dynamics, the hard work they’ve put into their small town.He despises how he thinks he can just insert himself in his life with no retaliation.





	Purple

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve tried to fix every possible mistake in this, but if some of the sentences don’t flow or if there’s a typo please tell!
> 
> I have also attempted to describe everything as accurately as possible to the Middle Ages, but some parts may not be correct for plot reasons.

Chapter one

Beneath the leafy cover of the abnormally high trees, Mark Lee lies relaxedly on the trunk of one of the tallest. He had awoken a few minutes prior but had made no attempt to move from his lounging position. He yawns a few times before stretching his arms and standing upright, lazy gaze set on a pair of squirrels that were chasing each other up a tree.

He fiddles with the pouch tied neatly to his brown tunic and pulls out a yellowish rusted coin, a single shilling that his mother had given to him that morning. In their family it was good luck to carry money around with them, so she often made sure that he had at least one of the coins in pocket. 

The chimes of the nearby town clock rang once, the loud vibrations causing the nestling birds to fly from their nests. The long chime alerted him that he had wasted half of his day, doing nothing besides watching the squirrels chase each other over roots and into the insect infested bushes.

With that in mind, he kicks the mud off of his leather boots and begins his journey back to his village. His mother would never approve of him to arriving to work late, and Johnny would be sure to tell her if he was the littlest bit tardy.

He starts off the road that he originally came from, stalking the muddy path that led him all the way back to his town, only stopping a few times to look around cautiously when he felt that the bushes were ruffling to noisily. Once he had arrived at the slowly decaying oak fences that surrounded his village, he prepared himself to launch over the fence. He had performed the act countless times before so he did it effortlessly, continuing to walk normally after he was on the other side.

The wood that he had just been in were closed off from the villagers, rumours of wolves and bears roaming around scaring everyone into seclusion. Mark wasn’t one of those people though, he knew the person who had cried wolf himself after all.

He passed the statue of the previous king, Lee Sooman and tried to ignore the unease that came with the stony expression that the rock’s rounded face held. King Sooman had been declared deceased long ago, when his personal physician had found his body cold and motionless on the floor of his chambers. The cause was unknown for a couple of weeks before the morgue confirmed that it was due to his majesty choking on a fly during one of his late night escapades.

 

Mark allows himself to breathe breathe when he passes the bar, great oak doors shut and candles blown out. After the clock struck three times again, the exterior would be wholly different however. The drunken calls of its customers would be howling and Mark would thank himself again that he had never given in to the temptation of alcohol, not trusting its abilities after he witnessed what had happened to a man Jaejin after he had too many jugs of beer. 

A roll of paper smacked against his back and Mark repressed the urge to let out a loud yell of surprise, coughing hazardly on his choked spit instead. He turns around to see the smug smile of his childhood friend Na Jaemin, eyes bright and sparkling with accomplishment.

“Ha! I got you this time!” He grins, slinging his right arm around Mark’s shoulders in the familiar way he had always done in all their years of friendship. Mark rolls his eyes in fake disgust and they both head towards the only building full with people, every other ones closed for the only break of the day.

The ancient doorbell rings loudly as Mark swings the door open. He can recognise each of the customers and greets with with polite greetings whenever they look his way. Mark nudges Jaemin harshly with his elbow, who in turn hisses in pain, when an elderly lady named Jieun narrowed her beady eyes at them disapprovingly. She has no reason to dislike them personally, the two boys have never given her a reason to. Other than the fact that everyone spoke highly of the two, and not of her own son Jaeshin, the angry farmer.

From behind the old oakwood counter, Johnny stares fondly at the two for a few seconds before busying himself with the next person who wanted their wallet crafted, a timid young woman named Miyoung. She wouldn’t meet his eyes and as much as he wanted to initiate eye contact, the pity he felt for her shaking form was stronger. Her already sickly mother had caught influenza and she was trying desperately to provide her with warmth. Even though Johnny sympathised with her wholeheartedly, he had to make a living for his own family too. There was no exception to the price of his goods and he had to keep it that way.

Jaemin unloaded the satchel at his waist and began to sort out its contents messily, a newspaper with the town’s news, some brochures of moving circuses nearby and many others that were moving so fast Mark couldn’t read them. The other cheered triumphantly when he saw a leaflet with inked cursive handwriting, scooping the last papers up and stuffing them into his bag mindlessly.

He shoved the swirly written one in Mark’s face, “Have you heard the news!?”  
Jaemin sighs in dismay and mutters something along the lines of ‘harecop’ before waving the paper wildly and ignoring Mark’s glare when he shakes his head in no. “There’s been a rumour going around that King Taeyong has a mistress. Everyone in the The Drunken Sailor has been talking about it, it’s weird that you haven’t heard of it yet.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m not always trying to chat up every girl who looks my way, you’re a real casanova Jaemin. Not all of us have the time to hang around bars all night.” Mark smiles, patting his friend on the arm and moving forward to help an short old man who had dropped his silken pouch on the floor in a strange attempt to reach a leather purse on the highest shelf.

Mark disregards Jaemin’s protests in favour of listening to the old man, Donghae, rant on about how his granddaughter only deserved the best purse for her upcoming 18th birthday.

“She’s really the kindest soul on the planet Mark, I think you too would get along great.” Daeseok mumbled excitedly, looking at Mark’s face thoroughly. “My Chaerin loves boys who can work well with their hands.” 

Mark nods kindly and pushes the crate that was residing under the table to the shelf that had the purse Daeseok wanted. “I’m sure Chaerin is a wonderful girl.” He smiles, stepping onto the crate and reaching for the dark leathered purse that would soon be said girl’s. 

Jaemin makes faces from behind the elder man which causes Mark to let out an ugly snort. He doesn’t recover himself quickly enough and he has to hope that Daeseok didn’t hear him, apparently hearing weakened as you aged. 

Luckily, Daeseok is to preoccupied with scrutinising the purse. “Mark my boy, thank you so much for getting this for me. I’ll definitely tell Chaerin to stop by to thank you as well.” He says incredibly pleased, as he clutches the bag and goes off towards the counter where Johnny was watching with amusement at the three. 

Once Daeseok is at a safe distance away, Mark rubs his eyes and narrows his eyes at Jaemin who is smirking from behind one of the belt racks. “You could have helped too you know, he was right there beside you.”

Jaemin waves lowly and continues to smirk smugly. “Yeah, but it looks like you had everything covered. Please tell me when you and Chaerin start something.” He blows a kiss his way and Mark pretends to crush it with his fists. He takes out his gold pocket watch from his satchel and groans internally, he had only been there for thirty minutes.

“You’re the reason my job is hard.” He points an accusing finger at the younger who had began to filter through each belt with fake enthusiasm. Jaemin rolls his eyes and tugs at one of the belts which had a light beachwood colour. “No, the reason your job is hard is because you suck.” Mark frowns at this but says nothing. He wasn’t that bad at making things, sure he hit the pins a bit too hard at times, and maybe his stitching skills were worse than a dead man, he wouldn’t say he sucked. That was just mean.

“I don’t even know why Johnny lets you work here, you’re better off helping Yukhei pickpocket the nobles who pass through here.” He grins.

“Now boys, if you aren’t going to do any real work in here, you may as well do some outside.” Johnny called from somewhere in the back storage room. “Jaemin, help me load these coats into the wheelbarrow and Mark, go fetch the order list and wait outside. You’re on delivery service now.”

It’s Mark’s turn to grin when Jaemin groans and drags his feet to the storage room, muttering things about bias behaviour and the like. Mark doesn’t feel an inch of pity as he refolds a dark orange tunic and finds his way to behind the counter, pulling the first draw open and picking through inked pages before he found the one labelled ‘delivery’.

He then re-sorts each paper and pushes the drawer back in, careful not to bend the list. Wooyoung, their lister, had barely understandable handwriting on his best days. He didn’t want to find out what his already scrawly handwriting would look like all crumpled up. 

Mark waits a while to see if Jaemin would come out with the wheelbarrow anytime soon, but then remembers that the shed that they kept it in was packed to the brim with supplies. It would take a some time for Jaemin to push out the wooden wheelbarrow and he waa better off getting fresh air. Mark made sure that the crate was back under the table before heading out and onto the dirt street. 

There town was small but compact, just the way they liked it. Almost everyone knew everyone and there was only one shop of everything so each shop was doing good business. From the path he stood on, it was easy to see the lush green fields that complimented the homey look of the village.

Everything in their little town matched with everything else. Jungwoo, the street busker and part-time bartender, and his sweet songs encouraging young children to join him in each verse. Minho and Kibum’s bursts of laughter from inside Jinki’s bakery every now and then, then the welcoming smell of freshly baked bread that wafted all around the town. Mark loved his little town, and he never wanted it to change. 

The sound of wooden wheels protesting against the dirt road alerted him of Jaemin, who was red in the face but looking very accomplished. “What did you do this time?” He asked, already prepared for his friend to start boasting about himself. Over the years, the compliments of the passing milkmaids and maidens had forged his ego into a mountain higher than the King’s castle. 

Jaemin pulls the handles of the wheelbarrow down and wipes his sweatless forehead with a gleam in his eyes. “Nothing much, just convinced Johnny to spread my name around a bit. Since he knows most of the people in these parts, he’ll have no hard time recommending my geniusness to the passing fellow.”

Mark nods in realisation and smiles reassuringly to his friend. Jaemin had been searching for a new, exciting job for a while now. He had always had a strong hunger for adventure, ever since they were younger and more naive. Mark knew that it was selfish to cling onto the hope that Jaemin would always be with him at the leatherware store, but he couldn’t help it. It had always been the two of them, without having the other there all the time would make him feel unbearably empty.

Mark pushes away his negativism, Jaemin deserved the chance to explore out of their little town and he wasn’t going to take it from him. “I’m sure he’ll find you a good one, Johnny always has a good sense for things like this.” 

Jaemin nods energetically, pleased from his response if the way he was buzzing gave any indication. He lifts the handles back up and waits for Mark to lead the way, hands gripping so tightly at the poles that they would surely snap it half. Mark grins at him and waves his hand to follow him, setting off in the direction of the library. It needed more leather covers to preserve the pages of their books. In the spur of the moment, Mark forgets about the distasteful feeling stirring in his gut, gnawing at his guts persistently. 

The caws of the village birds accompany their journey to the library endlessly. Jaemin’s eyebrows were furrowed in caution at the sight, he waited till they had passed the next corner before stopping the wheelbarrow with an ugly screech. “Hey Mark, do you think something bad is gonna happen soon? You’ve heard the tales right? The sparrows only caw this loud when something sinister is about to happen.”

Mark halts his steps and rolls his eyes before waving the sheet of paper wildly. “I know you hate the library but this isn’t going to stop us from going. The birds are this loud because its migration season, they’re calling for their family to join them. Now come on and push that cart, the quicker you are, the quicker we’ll be done.”

Jaemin doesn’t move until Mark is a good feet ahead of him, reciting some instructions he had heard from Johnny about wallet sewing. The boy sighs and begins to push the wheelbarrow in the footsteps of his disbelieving friend. Mark was religious but not as superstitious as he was. The older boy would never hesitate to walk under a stray ladder and would hardly be seen crying in despair whenever he knocked over one of Johnny’s mirrors. 

Unlike his friend, Jaemin can’t ignore the anxiousness tearing away at him and he frowns all the way to the library, only smiling a bit when he came face to face with another person. Couldn’t they feel it? Something was not right.

When the two arrived at the library, Mark immediately dashed off to find Kun, the man who owned the place. Mark hurried down the wood floored corridor towards the last room, oak door half opened with shadowy movements travelling around the walls. He pushes the door open and is immediately greeted by the sight of Kun and a man he had never seen before, glaring deadly at each other. 

Mark eyed their stiff body language and was quick to realise that he may be intruding on something personal. Kun is the first to break eye contact, noticing Mark’s figure standing abruptly in the doorway. The older man glares once more at the stranger, then allows a warm smile to over take his features. 

“Mark! What brings you here?” He questions, eyes softening instantly. It was a million mile change from his expression before and a small part of Mark felt grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of his death glare.

“Johnny said that you needed some leather book covers for your folklore collection, he said that Jaemin and I should deliver them instead of Seungmin today.”

Kun grins, motioning for Mark to give him the paper with a motion of his hand. “And that’s because you were slacking off again.” 

Mark’s protests of saying that it was all Jaemin’s fault were ignored as the librarian shook his head in amusement as he looked at the checklist. “Yukhei!” He called, not looking up. “Come and fetch me all the copies of Beowulf and Troilus and Criseyde please!”

The sound of books smacking on to the floor could be heard from the hallway, and then the towering but clumsy form of Wong Yukhei was in the room, attractive face flushed from running. He has 5 bundles in his long arms and he plops the down on the nearest desk, completely empty except from a sheet of thin that looked suspicious from the way the writing was carefully hidden. 

“Oh hey Mark, I didn’t see you come in. Jaemin is sleeping on one of the chairs by the fireplace, said something about you taking ages.” He grinned, features practically shining.

Mark snorts, “He’s just exaggerating again, he’s been like this ever since Johnny said he’d find him a job.”

The stranger whispers something to Kun with a look of desperation, then shuffles past Yukhei and Mark to exit the room. Mark looks back to Kun who is lost deep in thought, eyes clouded with something unreadable.

“I should probably go, you know how Jaemin gets.” He said, taking the flimsy paper back from Kun’s desk, already signed with his signature in pitch black ink.

Kun nods mindlessly and gives him a weak smile, before sending Yukhei out with orders of encompassing each of the books with the new leather cases. Once the two are outside of the room, Yukhei’s smiley persona drops. A wave of worry decorating his face. “Do you think Kun is alright? He hasn’t been himself since the King started sending down people to him.”

“From the king?”

“Yeah, the king wants to knock this building and replace it with a modern one, like the armourer's shed in Obry.” He whispered, leaning in close to Mark who stares at him in horror.

“But the Codasech has been here since forever! It’s part of our town’s history! It was already 200 years old when the Great King came into power!” Mark’s protests simmer down in volume once the older boy glares at him.

“He doesn’t know that I know, I was piling books up down the history section when he started arguing extra loudly with one of the king’s men. You have to swear not to tell anyone okay? I don’t want him to stress over the fact that the entire town will be counting on him.”

An anguished yell erupts from the room behind them and papers upon papers hit the ground messily. “Shit!” Kun’s voice echoes through the gap under the door and the two hurry away down the hallway into the main room.

Jaemin, as Yukhei had told him, was snoring peacefully on a leather plated chair near the unlit fireplace, innocent to the haggard breaths that Mark and Yukhei were emitting. Mark shakes his friend in an attempt to wake him up, whereas Yukhei stares sadly at each of the four walls surrounding them, decorated with all kinds of books from all kinds of countries.

Mark knew how much Yukhei valued the place, even if he didn’t like reading the books that they held. The Codasech had been the first place that Yukhei had been able to get a job at when his family had been overrun with debt. The library was a second home to the older and Mark couldn’t fathom the thought of anyone taking it away from him. 

Jaemin stirs, muttering gibberish a few minutes later. Yukhei is long gone, opting to do as Kun asked as to not form suspicion in the olders eyes. Before he had left, he had made Mark pinky swear that he wouldn’t tell a soul about the library's possible future. 

“Come on, we’ve still got three more places to go to.” Mark says, tapping Jaemin’s arm when he tried to find a different position to nap in. 

“Give me five more minutes.” Jaemin groans, burying his head in his arms. “I was fighting a dragon and I was winning.”

Mark raises an eyebrow but says no more, opting to fiddle with the shilling in his pouch. “Sure you were. Why were you fighting a dragon?”

Jaemin writhes in the chair. “It was the job Johnny gave to me! There was some man named Hakyeon who said that I was gonna become a knight, but first I had to slay a dragon.”

“Don’t you think you should become a knight before you do that?” Mark laughed, watching the little hands of his gold plated watch circle around. 4 more minutes.

“I don’t know, he just came to me out of nowhere and was all like ‘slay this dragon and I will knight you’. It was super real though!” 

Mark shakes his head and stands up, moving around the room to inspect some books that he had never seen before. “Sure, is this somehow related to the crows too?”

Jaemin shoots up, eyes wide but with traces of sleep. “Yes! That’s exactly what it’s from. Mark you’ve got to believe me! Maybe I die while fighting the dragon and that’s the bad thing that happens.”

The other boy rolls his eyes and walks to the entrance, waiting for Jaemin to follow him. Jaemin didn’t need to know that the unpleasant feeling in his chest was probably due to the fact that the building they were lounging in had the possibility of demolition. The timer wasn’t up but his gut was telling him that he should leave quickly, if the way Kun’s room showed anything.

 

A few hours later Mark and Jaemin could be found back in Johnny’s shop, rearranging the shelves that a little boy had knocked down while he was hiding from his mother. Jaemin was nattering on about how great it would be to be able to fight a dragon (he was still obsessed with the dream he had dreamt earlier) but Mark couldn’t find it in himself to pay attention, mind filled with thoughts of Codasech’s possible demise.

The doorbell clatters against its arch and one of the bakers is by the door, breathing in heavily with his hands caked with flour. “The king is here! He wants everyone to gather in the fields!” 

Johnny drops the mallet he was holding, face shocked. “Did he say why?”

Jinki shakes his head and points to the green fields that lay west from where the town was. “No, he gave no reason to speak of. Please hurry, you know how his brother can get.”

Jaemin and Mark look at each other for a split second before nodding to Jinki and finishing up with the last of the goods. “We’ll see you there Johnny.” Mark said, before following Jaemin and Jinki out of the shop. The older man had to close up the whole shop in case any thieves came by when they were out. There had been a case where criminals had gone on the run and had invaded every shop in there town and no one wanted that to happen again.

The walk to the fields was a short one, mainly because the three of them were speed walking to get there as fast as they could as to not be on the side of the king’s rage. Sure he hadn’t given a severe punishment to anyone before, but you could never count your chances. The Great King who had been in power a few years ago had seemed like a great guy before an elderly lady stepped to close to him and he struck her with his fist. It’s safe to say that everyone has been weary of the royal family ever since.

When they joined the other villagers in the middle of the field, they were sweating and incredibly hot. The royal family could be found furthest from them, a safe distance away from the stressed expressions of their people. There was the king himself, his four brothers and the man Mark had seen at the library. What he was doing there went well above Mark’s head. 

The church’s priest, Kim Heechul, stared at the crowd before him with something akin to amusement dancing on his features. He clapped his hands a few times and the chattering of the villagers began cease to a halt. He coughs once into his fist before raising his hands in a wide arch, “Hello my dear people. It is an honour to stand before you all and present this superb news. His Royal Majesty, King Taeyong, has finally found a spouse to help run the kingdom with him.”

There area few gasps of shock, amazement and disbelief and rightly so. In all his years, King Taeyong had never shown an ounce of attraction for any of his hundreds of suitors. Some suspected that he may have been a homosexual in the past, a feat punishable by death, but they were immediately called out. In order to preserve the Royal Family’s pure blood line, each king had to have a wife to carry his child.  
King Taeyong was known as someone who followed the rules without question, so that laughable theory was debunked. 

Mark looks back at the king who is starting emotionlessly at the eccentric priest, face showing nothing. The same could be said for his brother’s who held expressions of utter boredom. He reasoned with himself that it was because they had most likely heard the news already, although King Taeyong didn’t seem like the type to mindlessly obsess over things such as relationships. 

The man who Mark had seen arguing with Kun looked extremely uncomfortable as Heechul droned on about the happiness and peace that the new couple would bring to their town. He resembled the forest creatures Mark had seen over in the woods everytime he took walks, and he couldn’t help but snort at the thought. An elderly woman beside him frowned at him temporarily before looking back at Heechul, disappointment evident in her expression. Mark could only bow in apology and carry on scrutinising the men far away from him.

Mark noticed that every time Heechul mentioned Lee Hyerin, King Taeyong’s spouse, that the man would stiffen. He looked to the princes but their expressions were the same as the king’s. Why was this man acting so suspicious? 

A round of applause is shortly followed after Heechul bows, large smile looking over the crowd. Mark looks around and he can see Yukhei and Kun talking quietly at the side, sadness striking their faces. They never look his way but he can see that they can feel his glance by the way they stop talking when he looks their way again.

Jaemin is staring in adoration at the knights that guarded the Royal Family, fists clenched and practically vibrating. “They’re so cool! I can’t wait till I can be like them one day.”

Mark laughs, following his excited friend’s gaze. “You’ll have to defeat a dragon first, and I don’t think there are any near here.”

Johnny waves at them from the back of the slowly deforming crowd, and the two boys hurry over immediately. “So, what did the king say?”

“He didn’t say anything, it was all the chancellor. It wasn’t very interesting.” Jaemin replied, watching the knights with their metal clanking armour march up the hill. 

“You’re only saying that because you were watching the knights the whole time! But I agree, the king didn’t breathe a word. It was weird seeing as it’s his own announcement.”

Johnny nods in agreement. “I only got here now because Sicheng needed help with carrying his experiment tubes to his basement, so you’re gonna have to tell me all about it.”

The artisan laughs wholeheartedly when the two boys admit to have been paying no more attention to the speech then the other, and they guiltily laugh along with him. He assures them that it’s no problem as long as they promise to inform him if they ever find out. Mark jokes that he won’t have to wait if he just talks to the butcher’s daughter, and Jaemin cackles when Johnny glares at him and gives him the duty of cleaning the storage shed.

It’s all worth it though, because he got to see Johnny flustered for the first time in weeks. The older man usually fully composed so it was rare to find him with his cheeks tinted pink and ears flushed.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter notes:
> 
> King Soo-Man died the same way Adrien IV (c. 1100-1159) the only pope who was an Englishman. A fly drowned in his wine and he choked on it and pus from his tonsillitis.
> 
> Harecop is an old term meaning someone who is dull minded. A similar word ‘dalcop’ is someone that is an idiot.


End file.
